Wolves and Jackal
by Anthropos Agnostos
Summary: AU for "Lost City". The Battle of Antarctica leaves SG-1 and the Prometheus stranded on the polar continent, unable to reach or contact the outside world. Now dark shapes are moving on the horizon.


The material wasn't ice. It might have looked like it, but it was so much more. The optical effects, like looking at an object through frosted glass, were space-time distortions. The clock was slowed to a near standstill beyond the barrier while those on the outside went on living. Everything inside the pod was isolated from the rest of the world in a way being frozen in ice could never match.

Jackson placed a hand on the pod-case separating him from his friend & protector. Jack finally looked at peace, the Knowledge of the Ancients no longer crowding his mind, the weight of the world no longer bearing down on his shoulders. Over the years he had to give up so much to protect his team and his planet – now the only thing O'Neill had left to give was his very mind and body. At times Daniel wished he could just leave it all and join him in the sweet surrender of oblivion, but deep down he knew the universe would not let both of them rest in peace.

"Dr. Jackson, it's time."

Daniel sighed, turning away from the pod to face the speaker. General Hammond was there, wearing a thick parka & handing him a P-90. The flood-lights that were hastily set up to illuminate the cavern cast eerie shadows on the man, making him look even older than usual. Wearily, Daniel took the offered weapon.

"Are you alright, son?" the General asked "If you're not feeling well, I can have Airman Joyce take your watch."

Jackson examined the rifle (one of the many skills O'Neill instilled in all members of the team) as he thought of a suitable lie. "I just haven't been sleeping well lately. I doubt Joyce or anyone else has either." Satisfied with the condition of the weapon, the archeologist finished the inspection by activating the Kull-disrupter underneath the barrel of the P-90. Choosing a nearby inert piece of machinery, Daniel let loose a test-shot. The blue energy bolt, harmless against anything other than Anubis's black-clad supersoldiers, hit the target dead-center and dissipated across the machine leaving it unscathed.

"We could stop by the mess and take a thermos of coffee." Hammond suggested.

Refusing the temptation, Daniel shook his head. "We shouldn't keep Teal'c waiting. He needs his kelno'reem as much as the rest of us need sleep."

Nodding in understanding, the general started down a winding maze of frozen tunnels, following a marked path. The task would have been impossible were it not for the arrows hastily spray-painted on the walls.

The airman were still working overtime to map the facility & mark the passages while the scientists looked over every inch of it in hopes of finding something to save them from the surface threat.

Stopping inside a small alcove with a red 'A3' painted on the floor, Hammond spoke into his radio.

"A3, beam to the North-West quadrant."

In a split second the dark tunnels were bathed in brilliant light and immediately replaced by the wind-swept panorama of an Antarctic valley. With the _Prometheus_ at their back, the scene would have been beautiful were it not for the remains of Jaffa and space-fighters scattered across the field. Some distant part of Daniel's academic brain wondered if they all would remain there, Jaffa and humans alike preserved in ice forever, a mystery to some future race that arises when even Anubis is but a distant memory.

"Shift over already?" a new voice asked in a mild southern drawl.

Turning around, Daniel saw Teal'c help an airman get out of the impromptu trench. Though the man's face was obscured by his winter gear, the archeologist realized he must be Cameron Mitchell. A career pilot, the man led _Prometheus_ ' F-302s to battle against Anubis, buying Jack just enough time to activate the Ancient Weapon. The effort proved futile in the end though – the device had powered off after only a few minutes of use while Mitchell was shot-down, surviving the crash by a miracle. To add insult to injury the _Prometheus_ was crippled in battle, its communication array and sublight engines knocked out by an Al'kesh strafing run, leaving Hammond no option but to ground the ship and strand them all. The Jaffa beamed down soon after with Her'ak himself coming to proudly announce that Lord Anubis has claimed the device and will "generously" accept their surrender.

"Sure is." said the General. "Teal'c, Colonel – go get some rest."

"Any sign of activity from the Jaffa camp?" Daniel asked concerned.

"Nah, they're still licking their wounds from the last time they tried to cross the line."

The Jaffa encampment was mockingly close yet completely out of reach of the ship's damaged railguns. This forced the crew to defend their position the old-fashioned way: with machinegun nests, dugouts and tactics taken straight from the Battle of Verdun. But as fortune would have it, the terrain favored the defender and the Jaffa had no choice but to throw themselves at the Prometheus in wave after bloody wave. Either he wanted to capture the whole site intact or his fleet suffered far greatly than the First Prime let on, but Anubis had not resorted to Al'kesh strikes or orbital bombardment. Not yet at least.

"Teal'c, do you think they are reassessing their strategies?" Hammond asked, processing the new information.

"I do not believe so General Hammond" replied the Jaffa. "Her'ak would not change the plan of attack because of heavy losses. He would sacrifice every warrior under his command if he believed it would bring Anubis closer to capturing the Weapon of the Ancients."

"Very well. We'll just have to-"

"General, the ship's sensors just picked up an airborne contact!" Sam's voice came over the radio, interrupting Hammond's speech.

The four men looked at each other with dread. With the shields down and the railguns damaged, the _Prometheus_ wouldn't survive an attack from even a Death Glider.

Hammond thumbed the button on his com. "A Goa'uld vessel?"

"No sir, it's too small and…" Sam paused as a sensor could be heard blearing in the background "Dear God, it's heading straight for us. Sir, you have to get out of there!"

Daniel reacted even before Hammond gave the order. All four men jumped into the narrow trench and crouched down low. The archeologist was vaguely aware of Teal'c trying to shield him with his own body before a wave of ice, snow and deafening sound swept over them.

As soon as his ears stopped ringing Daniel became aware of three things: one – he and his companions were alive, two – the air was filled with panicked shouts & cries of pain, and three – the shouts weren't their own.

Taking a tentative peep over the edge of the trench Jackson stared in the direction of the Jaffa. In place of an organized Goa'uld camp he now saw smoke & ruins – the center of the base was newly-marked by an empty crater where only moments ago stood Her'ak's private tent. But towards the edge of the blast zone the Jaffa survived and were running to help their comrades, salvaging what they could. More disturbingly, the Kulls still lived and moved through the wreckage like carrion beetles.

Cam stood up next to him and pulled out a pair of binoculars, giving a low whistle as he surveyed the carnage. "Glad we weren't the target after all. Hey, looks like the cavalry is coming!" Mitchell said as he pointed at a set of hills in the distance.

Straining his eyes, Daniel could make out three shapes flying over the hillside. At first glance they appeared to be Death Gliders but as they drew closer to the Jaffa camp the din of helicopter blades became apparent, revealing them to be human aircraft.

The helicopters swooped down low, zig-zagging over the camp before unleashing a barrage of rockets and autocannon rounds on the surviving Jaffa.

"Who are they?" Hammond asked, still not quite believing in their unexpected rescue.

Mitchell adjusted the focus on the field glasses and took a closer look at the aircraft "Um… they're werewolves, sir."

Daniel frowned in disbelief. "I'm sorry, did you just say 'werewolves'?"

Teal'c raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Before now I have been led to believe that werewolves are merely a figment of Tau'ri folklore."

Cameron looked sheepish as he realized who his audience was. "Those are Russian Kamov Ka-50 attack helicopters, Dr. Jackson." Mitchell explained as he passed the binoculars to Daniel "Commonly known as 'werewolves'."

"The Russians?" Hammond wondered outloud. "They are a long way from home."

Adjusting the focus, Daniel took a closer look at the aircraft. Sleek, black fuselages with long, upturned noses really gave them a wolfish appearance while their speed and heavy weapons left no doubt about their predatory nature.

The werewolves flew low & fast during their attack runs, a skill the pilots learned to protect themselves against shoulder-fired missiles. Although an effective tactic against human weapons, it only made the helicopters a better target for Jaffa plasma fire. In the initial panic only a few of the Jaffa fired back at the airborne assailants but the trickle of plasma bolts became a torrent as Anubis's super-soldiers joined in the fray. Daniel watched in horror as their rescuers retreated – but not before one of the helicopters was downed, kicking up a cloud of snow as it crash-landed on the outskirts of the enemy base.

"Well, that can't be good." muttered Cam "Think anyone survived that?"

* * *

Lieutenant Kirill Mironov's hands shook as he spastically loaded another cartridge into his Saiga shotgun.

 _30 minutes. That's all._

The magazine finally fit into place with a satisfying click. Cocking the hammer, Mironov jumped out from behind his ruined helicopter and fired at the approaching alien squad.

The first two shots went wide but on the third an unlucky Jaffa went down screaming as dozens of ball-bearings ripped into his gut and shredded the vital symbiote pouch.

 _Just 30 minutes. And I'll be back to Novorossiysk._

A warrior stumbled as buckshot hit his chest-plate but continued the charge regardless, yelling Goa'uld war-cries and firing his staff as he drew closer. A shot to the head quickly remedied the problem.

 _Half an hour. And then help arrives._

The pilot registered movement out of the corner of his eye: a Jaffa had climbed atop a nearby snow-dune and stood with his left arm pointing forward while his right was poised for a swing. The invaders may have been using alien weapons but the grenade-throwing stance was universal. The Lieutenant fired a reflexive shot, only managing to graze the grenadier's leg. This however unbalance the alien and he tumbled down into the snow mid-swing. Moments later, a geyser of red-white mist erupted as the alien grenade detonated besides the hapless warrior.

The grenadier's brief distraction allowed the last trooper to sneak close enough to fire his zat. The electricity hit the helicopter, the metal funneling it into the ground. Still Kirill couldn't help but yell in pain as the partial charge reached him. Adjusting his aim, the Russian made sure the Jaffa would not get a second shot.

With no new targets for the moment, the Lieutenant took quick stock of his inventory: 3 more shots in the Saiga, a fully loaded pistol on his hip, an emergency pack and the cover of his helicopter keeping him alive. With a smirk, he gently patted the fuselage of the broken machine in thanks.

Mironov was brought out of his musings by the sound of heavy footsteps. Another alien approached, this one even more bizarre than the others. Bulky black armour covered it head to toe and although carrying no visible weapons it single-mindedly drew closer, oblivious to the corpses of its comrades laying in the snow.

The shotgun's iron-sight fell on the black creature and Kirill squeezed the trigger repeatedly. Sparks peppered its carapace but despite being subjected to a Mozambique Drill the monster kept on coming without pause.

Automatically the pilot reached for his sidearm but the blackguard was faster. As it raised its hand a volley of plasma shots erupted from its wrist forcing Mironov to duck back behind cover.

Kirill couldn't help but remember stories the veterans told fresh airman about what nightmares awaited anyone downed in Afghanistan or Grozny. Somehow, he felt these aliens could outdo even the cruelty of the Mujahedeen and the Chechens combined.

 _Thirty minutes._ Mironov pulled his gun out of its leather holster. _The rescue team may as well be an eternity away._

Taking a deep breath, the Russian put the barrel of the weapon underneath his chin.

 _One shot. It will be painless._

He could hear the creature behind him, its footsteps only a dozen meters away now. A new sound made him pause however. There was shouting… in English.

Kirill lifted his head from behind the fuselage and chanced a peak. A group of soldiers crested the snow dune, running to his position. The blackguard too noticed the new arrivals and immediately switched targets. As golden plasma shots flew at the soldiers they dropped down and returned fire. The "Englishmen's" rifles fired blue energy bolts with deadly effect: whereas his shotgun proved powerless against the alien trooper a single bolt brought it to its knees while leaving no mark on the glossy armour. The second shot finished the job yet six more were sunk into the unmoving body, just to be sure.

Overjoyed, the pilot left his cover and ran to meet his rescuers. He could see other soldiers now entering the camp from other directions. Sporadic gunfire could be heard as they swept the area for any other threats.

The strangers carried unknown weapons and dressed in heavy arctic gear, obscuring their features. Yet the Lieutenant was sure they were human… until he saw the largest soldier in the squad confidently carrying the alien staff-gun. Working strictly on instinct Mironov raised his weapon just as a smaller man jumped in his line of fire and blocked his shot.

"Ne strelai!" The man yelled, raising his hands in submission "Mi svoii! Mi ne vrag."

Confused, the pilot lowered his weapon.

"You speak Russian?"

The stranger nodded, removing his hood and ski-mask to reveal a bespectacled man. "My name is Dr. Jackson. Behind me is Teal'c and Major Carter. The other man is Col. Mitchell of the _Prometheus_ crew."

To everyone's surprise the Russian grinned at the news " _Prometheus_?! I was supposed to rescue you – not the other way around!"

* * *

Built in the 1970s, the _Novorossiysk_ was an aircraft carrier long in the tooth and past her prime. At some 270 meters in length and with room for only about a dozen jet-planes, it should not have seemed impressive to those accustomed to the massive US Navy carriers or the 700 meter long Goa'uld motherships. But to the dozens of Americans (and one Jaffa) currently onboard it was the very salvation they dared not hope for.

Not long after meeting up with Lieutenant Mironov the rescue helicopters arrived. Two dozen Russian marines joined the Americans in securing what was left of the Jaffa camp before evacuating the stranded crew. Onboard the ship the 1st batch of new arrivals were given quick medical exams before being distributed to living quarters. For most, it was a welcome respite after 3 days of uncertainty. For others like Daniel, who ended up being the impromptu interpreter between the English-speakers and the Russians, it proved a new source of headaches.

From his time spent with the ship's crew Daniel was however able to piece together the events of the last few days: _Novorossiysk_ and her task-force were on a training mission in the South Pacific when they were informed by the Admiralty of a world-wide alien attack and ordered to head to Antarctica to rescue the American "astronauts" stranded in battle. The attack itself lasted less than an hour and ended abruptly as thousands upon thousands of lights streaked through the skies and swept away any hostile spacecraft. The only problem left was the Jaffa troops that landed beforehand – although now marooned on Earth they steadfastly refuse to give up and continued to fight on despite overwhelming odds. The Russian sailors were optimistic after their victory at Her'ak's camp but Jackson shuddered to think how long it would take to root out all the Jaffa holdouts, remembering tales of WW2 Japanese soldiers still fighting on in the jungles and valleys decades after their empire crumbled.

That night the crews of the _Prometheus_ and _Novorossiysk_ celebrated life, victory, and human perseverance. The Russian sailors might not have been told much about Stargates or Goa'uld but they knew it was the "astronauts" that saved Earth while the Americans realized that they in turn owed their lives to _Novorossiysk_ and her werewolves. And so it was that smuggled booze was openly shared and consumed in front of superior officers as national boundaries and language barriers dissolved amid songs and merriment.

Despite it all, Daniel still felt unease in his chest. Humanity may have survived its darkest hour yet at great personal cost to everyone on SG-1. He knew Jack was always ready to die for humanity and sacrifice himself for those he loved – but not if it was in vain. The day Her'ak and his troops beamed down to Antarctica – they did so _after_ Jack swept the skies with the drones. And when Her'ak came demanding they surrender to Anubis he did not look like a man that had seen his god die, not like a fanatic holding on to a lie in the face of the truth. The First Prime was unshaken and firm in his belief about Anubis's victory. The Jackal God may still be out there, darkly brooding his next move from onboard his hybrid flagship. And without Jack, who will be there to save the world when Anubis returns?

* * *

Author's Note: this story was written for 2015's Apocalypse Kree Prompt Challenge. I chose to write a fic for prompt #168 – "Jack/Daniel, even Daniel had not been willing to believe they were werewolves".

For any history buffs out there: yes _Novorossiysk_ was a real Soviet/Russian aircraft carrier that was decommissioned in 1993 and yes, the Ka-50 is indeed a real attack helicopter whose naval variant entered service in 2014. I toss up any chronological discrepancies to military procurement & development history being different in this AU.

-Best regards, A.A.


End file.
